


The President's Seat (Black Mail)

by warmthofthesun (k_l)



Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: M/M, Save, Smut, ano pa ba pwedeng tag dito, beginners lang kami, co-writer approved naman, ily ate creja, lutang yung nagsulat nung smut, medyo, oDk help, pls don't sue huhu, probably late, tinamad mag-proofread, walang double check
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_l/pseuds/warmthofthesun
Summary: "Señor Presidente!" The voice, it was familiar, but blatantly, no one in the room cares. "Mister Mabini, why are you sitting on the President's chair?"





	The President's Seat (Black Mail)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrejaPatata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrejaPatata/gifts).



> co-written this with a friend and we took inspo from the picture in the end, sabi si ate creja yung source? kaya, ayun

As the carnal sounds erupting from the slurps and sharp inhales resonated in the room, Polé, chasing for his breath, arched his back while the intolerable pleasure coursed throughout his body. His hands, placed on the head of his president, grabbing a handful of his hair, tried to fight the urge to push him deeper.

Suddenly, Miong's head stopped bobbing, caressing his Prime Minister's leg. With a hoarse tone, he said nonchalantly, "You can control me, y'know? Why'd you have to be so gentle?" Then he smirked, playfully. And Polé, _oh Polé_ , how well does he know that it was one of Miong's mannerisms when he starts to get cocky.

All Polé could do was to sigh from the bottom of his lungs, caress Miong's cheek and put his thumb on the latter's lips. The prime minister then whispered, "Don't gag."

Feeling the sense of pride that he could fulfill (what it seemed) the command, Miong started to bob his head on Polé's dick, letting the hand pulling his hair push him deeper. As soon as he felt the head of the cock in his throat, he managed to get it in the right place. This earned a deep sigh from Polé— _he was probably rolling his eyes from pleasure_ , Miong obscenely thought.

The President himself was getting a hard on, his mental strength not enough to control himself. He had to touch himself immediately, he thought. He snaked his hand on his pants, successfully unbuckling his belt with just one hand (as the other gripped on one side where Polé was seated) and started to stroke his own dick with his mouth's pace.

As a first move, he teased himself, causing him to stop his mouth to gasp for a moment. He thought that this was the perfect moment for him to tease his Prime Minister as well, letting the latter know his authority.

At first, Polé was oblivious but as soon as he felt Miong's tongue roll on the head of his dick—it felt preternatural. It was gentle on touch, was a bit ticklish, but it went up to his spine. He shuddered and his hands were on Miong's desk, shaking as he held (as if) for his dear life. He went panting and bending forward in pleasure and in resistance (because it was a tease).

"Miong," he managed to croak out. When he opened his eyes, he saw Miong's eyes, glistening with hint of tears. _He surely gagged_ , Polé thought and found it quite amusing. He might not admit but he made lists on recording Miong's genuine temperament.

Miong, on the other hand, takes the opportunity and without any fair warning, went back on sucking Polé's dick as far as he could. It was amazing that he did not choke as Polé's reaction was to put his hand back on Miong's hair and arch his back.

Miong's left palm then snaked on Polé's body, grabbing one of his nipples and softly pinched it. Polé concealed a groan but moaned graciously for Miong as he threw his head sideways, closing his eyes shut, and tightening his grip on Miong's hair.

 _He's such a filthy mess_ , Miong thought. With this in his mind, his other hand slowed down on pumping as his mouth did so. This earned a groan from Polé while a hum was the only response he got. The vibration shook Polé's body, overwhelming him with a newly-found excitement.

His hand which grabbed Miong's hair went reckless—it moved as if it has its own accord. He pulled and pushed the President's head as he set the pace for himself. Having a kink for Polé's sudden change of attitude, it set Miong crazy, pumping on his dick as he had always pleased.

"M-Miong," Polé's moans were like mantra—it was one of a kind moment, turning on Miong in a whole another level. _It sounded so good_ , he thought.

In return, Miong picked up a fast pace (although his jaw was already numbing, he didn't care) releasing soft squeaks at the back of his throat. Polé, not really losing his mind yet, shuddered and sighed. He knew how it felt to run out of breath while giving blowjobs—hell, he suffered from that because of this man treating him with some.

Although with confusion why Polé's hand loosened its grip from his hair, Miong let the latter's hand caress his face. It was one of their signs that one should breathe, so Miong did.

After mouthing a 'thank you', he continued on his work undone and went kind of gentle, softened by how nice Polé was, but the latter's hand gripped on his hair tightly.

"Why do your lips feel so good like that?" Polé's deepening voice echoed inside, not only inside the room but also, Miong's mind.

Miong's mouth worked slowly but surely on making Polé's dick reach his throat, humming as he bobbed his head up and Polé pushing him deeper. Each time Miong gets to hum, it was when Polé had to involuntarily shudder and fight the urge to fuck Miong's mouth.

But Miong wanted Polé to thrust his hips.

As Miong was doing his job (and was slowly accomplishing) loud thuds from the outside were heard, it was sure that those were stepping towards the President's office.

"Miong," it came out like a moan from Polé's mouth, a sweet one, and it was. His body would not permit him to stop Miong from sucking his dick and Miong touching himself would not want to stop as well.

"Miong," well, he tried.

Someone barged in, "Señor Presidente!" The voice, it was familiar, but blatantly, no one in the room cares. "Mister Mabini, why are you sitting on the President's chair?"

 _Shoot_.

Polé's grip on Miong's hair tightened and his hips started to thrust forward, fucking Miong's mouth. The latter groaned and Polé moaned, _loudly_.

"Oh my goodness," were the only words that came from the one who barged in the room until the door was shut closed.

General Luna who was once fuming in anger was flushed, in embarrassment?

The halls were surely long but, while he walked as fast as he could, he muttered, "What in the world did i just see?" And the time worked on its magic, making the halls double its length.

In attempt of gathering his composure, he heeded for answers at the back of his head—curiosity killing the cat.

He pondered on it with such careful analysis. "That moan was too loud," he finalized, flushed a bit more but, he was not satisfied with what he concluded it into. He was not sure of why he thought it was a good idea to overthink about Mabini moaning (and a possible other one in the room whom he failed to see).

He wondered more, debating with himself.

"Was he masturbating?" _But why on the President's chair?_

"The President would not permit anyone to sit on his chair, Aguinaldo can't be that stupid!" _Except that he was._

"How did Mabini sit on the President's chair, was it a deed of one of his aides?" _Where in the Philippines were Anding and Noel anyways?_

"What can be under the table?" _You heard another voice, didn't you?_

"What the shit was that other voice?" _Was that Aguinaldo being a literal bitch?_

"What the actual fuck!"

He stopped internally fighting with himself as he reached the porch of the convent, two soldiers looking at him with a gulp as he seemed to be yelling on their ears.

Poor General, he just looked at the two soldiers with wide eyes and sprinted away to the convent's exit. He did not even notice taking his way down the stairs. He just wished that his preoccupation of the thoughts about what had happened earlier would subside sooner or later.

The lousy soldiers became quite worried to see the formidable General bothered, shouting his aides' names while still inside the convent. They could really see that he could not afford to waste time on leaving.

"Paco, Rusca!" He yelled, surprising the two while they were eating _suman_.

Without asking questions, the two went up to their horses and followed their General's lead. The journey to their headquarters was certain to be a lengthy one as Cabanatuan would be far from Polo. Silence engulfed them, and Paco knew that he should not tolerate General Luna's quietness.

He bravely cleared his throat and asked, "What happened there, General?"

The latter, as he was lost in a trance, gained conscious of his surroundings. He turned to Paco and, "What did you ask again?"

"What happened there, General? Was there something that went wrong?"

The General only slowly shook his head on disapproval. Rusca found this very odd as calm was the farthest mood to emanate from his man, so he was the one to ask the next.

"Was it successful?"

"Yea I think." Luna's answer was quick and as he answered, Rusca observed how his grip grip on the horse's rope tightened.

"What do you mean by, 'went ok', General? What bothers you?" Rusca was painfully curious and was greatly troubled of his General's actions. He wanted to be of help when it came to comforting his brothers by Motherland.

"It," Luna's tongue rolled, trying to look for appropriate answers, but _it_  was just not the most pleasant thing to see in an office. "It was... A miracle in the making."

Paco was delighted upon hearing this, but the General seemed to feel the opposite. In hopes to lighten up his mood, Paco told him, "That's quite the great news, General! What did Aguinaldo tell you?"

Luna raised his eyebrows, "Oh, Aguinaldo?"

"Yes General, Señor Aguinaldo," Paco replied. "The President."

For Rusca, if he read his General's facial expression right, he was devastated about something and, something in his brain might had snapped—it might be a negative criticism getting in his head, or an insult from their ignorant president.

"Should we call—"

Before Rusca could even finish what he was about to say, Luna spoke, "Oh, Aguinaldo? Was he— Was he under—"

"Under what, General?" Rusca asked.

Luna blinked his eyes and finally, _finally_ gained full consciousness of his environment and homeland _and_ planet.

"Under a spell?" He followed up, still with wide eyes. "Yes, yes, under a spell, a normal Aguinaldo wouldn't listen to me right away, am I correct?" He chuckled uncomfortably after that, making his aides chukle awkwardly.

"Yea, right." Rusca said, grinning at his General and comrade. "Classic Aguinaldo would be blind to anyone's morale."

"You got it, Brother!" Paco exclaimed in the midst of his forming joy with Rusca.

General Luna was still bothered, and the two who went with him really hoped that peace of mind would knock him to sleep.

_But it didn't._

That night, Luna spent more hours on planning the trincheras and, not sleeping the night with the excuse of supervising his people or that he was managing the budget for weapons. It was also noticeable that he drank excessive coffee as daytime dawns and, weirdly, Paco caught him rereading Doctrina Christiana.

"Why?" Paco kind of snapped. "Why are you overworking yourself, General? The country needs you more than ever." His voice was full of conviction, full of—

 _The moan was too loud for his mind to handle it_ , Luna thought but brushed it off by shaking his head vigorously. He slapped both of cheeks and, slam!

"You must sleep!" Paco pinned his General down on his wooden bed.

They were both astonished, widened eyes came contact. Paco was only concerned of Luna (whose reflexes were quick to push him). Having no sleep might drive his General into a real lunatic.

Paco straightened his posture and, "You have been spacing out lately and I know that's something recurrent but, nowadays, it's unlikely you."

Luna's face flustered after Paco pinned him down, his thoughts wandering to where Aguinaldo must have been when he visited Cabanatuan. Mabini was such in a high, and Aguinaldo must be at his lower region.

 _Okay, that's it_ , he thought.

He stood on his feet and changed on his normal clothes, "I need to recollect myself, Paco." He said nonchalantly with his uncommon tired eyes. "Please have me substituted by Alejandrino for a while." And Paco did not say anything more (because Luna's humbled voice was more succinct than his wisdom).

Luna walked his way to the nearest church and no one recognized him, really, not even Rusca who was laughing boisterously at José Bernal or, the vendor of chicken whom he scared one fated day.

 _At last, peace_ , he thought. Luna walked towards a confession box and knelt carefully as if his life depended on it. Well, his sanity surely did.

"Father, I am confessing my sins, guilt and shame."

The priest hummed in reply and said, "the Father in heaven will also listen."

Luna gulped and he was not nervous at all, but for the part that this priest might judge him, that scared him. The General in disguise tried to look for appropriate words, and once again, nothing came out. "I... I barged in a room and disturbed a meeting."

"Was that all, hijo?" The priest showed interest rather comfort.

The man who was confessing did not mind of the tale-bearing trait of almost all the priests who served pure churches. He humbled himself properly all night and, this deed should do the job of giving him peace of mind, right? It should be a fish bone out of his throat.

"I saw a man..." And, Luna sighed. He thought that it was unnecessary to get it out of his chest. What he witnessed was irrevocably vivid in his mind (which he thought may be covered by thousand of thoughts he would have in the future) and might be of use for _something_. He quickly stood on his feet and ran to his headquarters, laughing his way out, letting out his adrenaline rush.

Manuel saw him and as soon as he stopped, the Colonel saluted. Panting heavily and with a dying laughter, Luna stood straight and saluted back.

"Why were you in a hurry, General?" Manuel asked. "Was there anyone chasing you?"

Luna laughed it off, "Maybe the wind."

The General, quick on changing to his uniform, went back grinding on his work again, discussing the plans for the trincheras with Paco and José Alejandrino. He was also planning on starting their movements to attack the Americans secretly, squaring every headquarters up with Katipuneros.

Paco, as the talk he was, spoke of his opinion immediately, "If only General Mascardo and General Janolino would comply—"

"Don't worry, Paco. They would." Luna said and walked towards the door, opening it to see a sprinting Noel towards them.

That confused Paco but Luna laughed at him, "Mabini's aide?" The Colonel asked.

"Good evening, General!" Noel greeted in enthusiasm and saluted. Luna greeted him as well and gave back a salute. The young aide (who sported his uniform neatly— _he must be pliant to Mabini's example_ , Luna thought) gave him an envelope with a very, _oh so_ familiar seal.

"Señor Mabini had it written for you and Señor Presidente told me to wait until you have read the whole telegram." Noel spoke.

It read a simple:

**Forget everything you have witnessed.**

In, undeniably, Mabini's handwriting.

Luna gave the telegram back to Noel and whispered, "Tell them that I would forget it as soon as they give me that support that I want."


End file.
